


The Price of Peace

by Ballantyne



Series: The Traveler's Tales [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: D&D, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Gen, Memoirs, Non-Sexual Slavery, Philosophy, Politics, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Triggers, Waterdeep
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-04-08 04:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19099447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ballantyne/pseuds/Ballantyne
Summary: Slave is the only name I have known.  I have only known a life of bondage.  I have not lived so long because of mercy; my masters knew I would be valuable as I grew, I have been.  I was first sold as an oddity to a group of traveling entertainers, but they did not treat me as anything more than an animal capable of doing heavy work.  I slept in cages with the animals and learned not to sleep too deeply because the cruel performers liked watching a good show when they were drunk.  Many nights I awoke to a hungry bear or panther being let into my cage.  I only killed one of the animals and nearly died for it when I was beaten for damaging a valuable part of the show.  The men who bet on the bear to kill me also bet on how many lashings I could take before I died.





	1. Alone

**Author's Note:**

> I currently have no beta and I will consider all feedback offered.

Slave is the only name I have known.  I have only known a life of bondage.  I have not lived so long because of mercy; my masters knew I would be valuable as I grew, I have been.  I was first sold as an oddity to a group of traveling entertainers, but they did not treat me as anything more than an animal capable of doing heavy work.  I slept in cages with the animals and learned not to sleep too deeply because the cruel performers liked watching a good show when they were drunk.  Many nights I awoke to a hungry bear or panther being let into my cage.  I only killed one of the animals and nearly died for it when I was beaten for damaging a valuable part of the show.  The men who bet on the bear to kill me also bet on how many lashings I could take before I died.

 As I grew older and larger the owner of the show became afraid of me.  I had a simmering rage in me as I saw all that I could not have paraded in front of me.  The owner sold me off to a mercenary company that had a large contingent of slave soldiers that filled its front lines.  I lived among the wretched of the world and came to understand the goblins who were the friendliest to me.  They followed me into battle because I drew the fire away from them.  One day our camp was set upon by a bold strike from the army we had been battling for days.  The soldiers killed the mercenary leaders and ignored the slaves.  I thought my freedom had finally come and I rejoiced only to smell the smoke as they burned the camps.  I knew I did not have much longer to live and the rage in my heart boiled over at the thought of dying in captivity and having lived for no purpose.  I broke the chains binding me to my companions and we smashed the door to our pen using the chains that bound us.  We escaped alive, but my fellow slaves fled without me.  I still carry my chains with me as a reminder. 

 Alone, I set off into the world.  I am afraid of my new found freedom and find myself still nameless after all the years I have struggled to survive.  All I own is the loincloth I fashioned from the banner of a fallen enemy and the chains I wear wrapped across my body. My life as a slave taught me to sneak food whenever possible because we were never given enough eat to keep us lean and hungry.  It seemed that no matter how little I ate I still grew large.  I have been called a Goliath, but I do not know what that means.  I am slow to speak not because I am stupid, but because I have learned not to draw the attention of others.  The only adornment about my body are the scars I wear from my life of abuse.  I rarely stay long in one place because my size engenders fear and my silence begs questions from those who fear me.  I do not want to fight, but I will defend myself and those who cannot defend themselves. My goal in life is to earn a name; until then I am just a nameless slave that will no longer abide a master.

I have my eyes set on a city known for its wonders and being unafraid of the strange and unusual.  I have heard of Waterdeep and I hope that among its streets I will find my place.  I was able to pay my passage by traveling as a guard for a caravan of Halfling traders headed back from their route among the small towns and freeholds of the Sword Coast.  I have found myself sitting at the edge of the fire at night listening to the songs and tales of the caravan’s master, a particularly energetic Halfling named Roscoe Pepper.  He claims his family is among the greatest trading families in Waterdeep and that is why he spends all his time on the road.  It seems he rejects the wealth and privilege that his life has brought him.  I wish I had the words to tell him how foolish he is for rejecting that which others have died dreaming about.  I appreciate his need to feel free, but he does not see the chains that still bind him.  Those who have never worn chains have the most difficult time seeing the chains of their own making that weigh them down as they dance through their days.

As the campfire mellows, I listen to the songs of heroic tales that Roscoe sings and I cannot help but wonder about the lives of those in the hordes of dead these heroes have left in their wake.  I have only known one true hero in my time and they were truly evil in their quest for justice.  I no longer fear the powerful because I have been the lowliest soldier in an army.  Army’s exist because no one person is so powerful that they can stand alone against the masses.  The lowest born general can defeat the noblest hero if he has enough lives to spend doing so.  Even though I cannot find enjoyment in Roscoe’s heroic ballads, I find solace in my freedom to walk away if I so choose.  Freedom is truly the greatest power anyone can possess. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Looking back and looking forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same as the first chapter.

It has been two weeks on the road and I have come to see the Halfling in a new light.  He knows he is trapped by the wealth of his family and yearns to be free.  At first, I thought he led the caravan as a punishment, but I have come to see that he truly loves to be free of the bonds of his social obligations.  He loves to talk with me at length as we trod the road to Waterdeep.  I think he is fond of me for my silence.  I am uncomfortable talking and am glad he rarely leaves me a breath to speak.  I do not feel that we are becoming friends, but I do feel a growing trust that is foreign to me. 

A few nights ago, we arrived at a crossroads inn and we stabled our beasts for the night.  I was in the dooryard and observed Roscoe intervening on behalf of the stable boy as the innkeeper’s wife was beating him for some imagined failing.  Roscoe stopped the woman as she began another great swing of her broom handle.  She turned on him and was ready to deliver a mighty blow and Roscoe stood there looking her in the eyes waiting for the pain to land.  He must have unnerved the woman because she backed down.  As she stormed off into the house Roscoe spoke to the boy too quiet for me to hear. 

The innkeeper came out quickly to apologize for his wife’s actions and was astonished to see our caravan packing up.  In a fury, the innkeeper bellowed that we would not be getting our money back if we left.  Roscoe did not dignify the man with a response, but he gave me a knowing nod as I sheltered our remuneration as we marched on.  The boy has been a great help to the caravan since he joined us and I have no doubt he will find life on the road invigorating. 

I am ashamed that I did not intervene on the boy’s behalf and was instead made to sit and witness a Halfling a fraction of my size stand taller than I would have as he faced a cruel beast.  That day I learned that I cannot sit idle while there is something I can do to make a difference.  I am learning who I am by examining how I have failed to live up to who I wish I was.  I may be strong of body, but I now know that it is important to be strong in my convictions.  My freedom has come with a cost; I can no longer afford to be a bystander in the face of cruelty. 

In the days that followed the boy, he calls himself Wert, has tried to interrogate me about my past.  When he asked me for my name I responded by proclaiming that a slave has no name.  At first, he misapprehended my meaning and thought I was a slave of Roscoe’s, but the little Halfling set him straight.  The boy watches me with fear in his eyes, but he has not forgotten that I acted as a shield for his escape.  I regret that soon the scales of his heart will tip toward fear of me rather than fondness.  My size scares many and my silence only compounds it.  Each hamlet we pass through reminds me that I may be free, but I am not yet a part of society.  My eyes look forward to Waterdeep and being able to get lost in the chaos of that city of wonders. 

One night as the fire was dying, I asked Roscoe to tell me of Waterdeep and its sights.  He was silent long enough that I feared that I may have angered him.  At last, he spoke about how Waterdeep is a beast that feeds on the weak and powerless.  He proclaimed it a chasm of despair that would devour the soul of those not prepared to pay the prices the nobility of Waterdeep demanded.  He made it seem like a playground for the powerful that use the citizens as toy soldiers in an endless game of war. 

Suddenly, Roscoe realized that he had gone too far in his criticism and abruptly joked that he intended to bring the whole thing crashing down around their ears.  Through his japes, I could see the steel that mighty swords are forged from.  In this little man, I saw a mirror.  We had both grown up slaves in our own ways and each of us knew that our current freedom was a fleeting illusion that could be snatched away at any moment.  It was this glimpse into the heart of Roscoe Pepper that I saw, for the first time, that I was not alone in this world.  This strange Halfling was not yet one I would call friend, but he was quickly becoming one that built the bonds of trust.  There is an unmistakable honesty in the burning desire to destroy those who wield their power like a child with a toy.  I stand above most others and he disappears at people’s feet.  I hide behind silence and he hides behind words.  I use my strength to fight and he uses his mind.  I know the fear of not being in control of my own destiny and so does he. 

In two days we will be at the next town and finally one of consequence.  With each stop, we make the other members of the caravan carouse and avail themselves of the comforts the money they have earned thus far can buy.  I am still at a loss for how to spend money, but I hope this next town will offer me something worth my parting with gold.  Instead of looking only at today, I am looking forward to tomorrow and the days that follow it.  Though I am already bigger than most, I still see room for me to grow.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road is long and people get to know each other.

As we walk endlessly through each day Wert fills my ears with lamenting about how he never had to walk so much when he was in the care of the innkeeper. At the end of the first day, as we were making camp, I offered to beat him so he would feel at home. I do not think he took my jest for what it was and it was a few days before he walked beside me again. His misapprehension serves as a reminder of why I hesitate to speak with most people. I have also found that listening to others is a rare commodity that people crave. Many have spilled their deepest secrets because they know I will not reveal them. Recently, the cook’s apprentice told me that she has fallen in love with one of the mercenaries that guard the caravan. She is worried that the cook will find out and throw her out at the next town be she fears the cook may have fallen in love with her. Love seems to be a danger, but it is one I wish I could face.

  
The open planes we cross remind me of my travels when I was a slave to mercenaries no different than the ones that guard this caravan. We were part of an army that was funded by some great wizard. It was not my place to know who we served or why we were fighting. Marching in an army felt much safer even though we were marching to battle. I was surrounded by thousands of trained and seasoned warriors and we faced no real threats as we moved. The few times we came under attack on the road we were able to mount a quick defense and I was insulated from danger by our sheer numbers. Out here on the open planes, our ability to fend off aggression is limited to 7 mercenaries who do not trust me, a handful of wagoners with clubs, and myself. Out on the planes, we should have enough warning to flee before we would be forced to fight.

  
One of the mercenaries mocked me for having no weapon and when I shook my chains to show him I was not empty handed he tried to bait me into showing him. Being a Half-Orc he must have thought himself not completely outmatched by my size. As he pushed me in an attempt to provoke my anger I could only see the anger in his eyes. I was at peace because I was not his property and I would not be subjected to his anger without retaliation unless I chose to do so. Choosing to let the hot wind of his temper blow out against me was freeing because it was my choice. He was not harming me and my dismissal of his threats seemed to be an attack he did not know how to defend against. There would have been no value in doing the man harm and only loss in the event that I needed the man to fight by my side if we came under attack. I wished I could have explained this calculus to the aggrieved mercenary, I did not even know the man’s name because the mercenaries kept their distance from me. I was grateful to the man for showing me the value of inaction.

  
The night after the mercenary tired of shoving me Roscoe came to me and asked why I did not fight the man. At first, I shrugged, but he pressed on. I answered him by asking him why. That one word must have spoken to him because Roscoe was quiet for a long time before speaking to me again. I believe that he took more meaning out of my question than I intended because he treated me with more respect after that. He was never disrespectful to me to begin with, but I saw the little Halfling change his demeanor towards me in a way that showed he valued me as more than just a hired hand. This change in behavior was familiar to me. Often other slaves would fear me at first, but they often changed their behavior when they saw I had no intention of drawing attention to myself or exerting dominance with my size. For as big as I am I have always tried to be invisible. Unfortunately, there has always been one place where I am most visible and that is on a battlefield. I hope my new companions never have cause to see that side of me.


	4. Loss and gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The caravan is attacked.

The inevitable finally happened.  We have been traveling along the Long Road and had just entered the foothills north of Longsaddle when we came upon a travelers’ rest.  Stopping for the night we took shelter in the abandoned tower that stood beside the road.  I was unsettled by how clean the inside of the tower seemed to be and my suspicions turned out to have been justified.  I should have spoken up, but I am still too freshly free to question the choices of those in charge. 

The attack came earlier in the night than I would have suspected.  The bandits must have wanted to make their move before their comrades had become too drunk that night or they were out of provisions and desperate. Regardless of their motives they moved with stealth and killed one of the wagoners on watch before we knew they were among us. All my life living as a slave had conditioned me to sleep lightly and fear attack in the dark.  I was up in an instant and already engaging the bandits by the time the mercenaries had donned their armor.  I fought to subdue the bandits, but I saw no such restraint from the others.  This was another example of how cheap life is to those who have only known freedom. 

The skirmish did not last more than a few moments, but those moments will haunt me for my remaining days.  Those moments were the first real test of my strength as a free being.  I was not fighting to protect Roscoe’s property or because I was hired with gold, I fought to protect the people whom I have traveled with.  As I lashed a bandit around the neck with my chains to pull him off one of our horses I knew the mercenary that had challenged me was watching.  I reveled in being able to demonstrate my strength and still hold onto my honor.  Maybe I took too much pride in what I did because I was well out of a safe defensive formation when a bandit felled that mercenary with a crossbow bolt in his shoulder.  I was too far away when Wert rushed to defend the man he had befriended.  I was only a moment too slow in getting back to keep the bandit from striking Wert and cleaving off his leg.  I was not thinking slow enough when I struck the bandit a might blow with the chains wrapped around my fist and caved in his skull. 

The fight only lasted a few more moments but I was not aware of any other actions taken.  I had frozen in time and could not find the strength to move.  When I struck the bandit I was blind with an all-consuming rage, but after I felt cold and empty.  Thankfully, Roscoe rushed to treat Wert and stop the bleeding.  The mercenary, who I would learn later was named Haver, thanked me for saving his life.  When we counted up our losses we need to bury 3 mercenaries, 2 wagoners, and 8 bandits.  We did not have the strength of numbers to go after a camp maid had been kidnapped; her loss affected me greatly because I knew what horrors she would soon face. We had also had one horse and wagon of supplies stolen; another wagon had been lost to fire.  One of the bandits that I had captured had his throat slit in the night and none of the party would admit to the crime of murdering a bound captive.  Once again, I witnessed the value the free place on the life of the bound. 

The next day I helped tend to Wert and was shocked when I found Haver arguing with Roscoe while standing over the feverish boy.  Haver believed Wert should be killed as mercy and Roscoe refused, retorting that we were only a long day’s ride from Longsaddle.  I loathed Haver for his insistence, but I did not think he was wrong.  Roscoe was not offering to take the boy to Waterdeep, he was arguing to let the boy live long enough to leave him in Longsaddle.  A crippled boy in a backwater like Longsaddle would not last long.  Roscoe spoke with conviction of unbelievable magics in that place and the family that governed the town as benevolent wizards.  I knew of no magic that could replace a lost limb and feared the boy’s death would be a slow and painful one.  I chose to take the action that no one else had yet considered, I asked Wert what he wanted.  He had heard both sides of the argument and decided that he would trust his fate to the Harpell family in Longsaddle.  He also asked for the dagger of the man that had wounded him so he could take his life if he felt the pain become too great.  The others were taken aback by the boy’s conviction, but I knew where his strength came from.  I had seen the type of determination in Wert’s eyes in the eyes of others in my days as a slave.  Those others would either fight to escape and be free or die trying; they refused to live otherwise. Wert would face a similar destiny in Longsaddle, a fight to survive or the release from pain that death brings.  I did not doubt his conviction as I slipped him the dagger he had requested.


End file.
